


Who Are You to Judge?

by PrincessSunflower



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Booty Calls, Cheating, Crying During Sex, Emotions, Heartache, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred, Smut, but not in a fun way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6995110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessSunflower/pseuds/PrincessSunflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is with Matt now. This is a fact that Wade has had to accept. Peter and Wade broke up for a reason, they both know that. But it doesn't stop the crushing heartbreak. And it doesn't stop Peter from sending those late-night texts for Wade to come over. They both know they need to stop. It's not fair for anyone. But, as much as it hurts each time, "the last time" has never been the last.</p><p>OR</p><p>An angsty, smutty song-fic to The Hills by The Weeknd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hills

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was an idea that I had a while back and it's kind of just been sitting on my computer for a while. I've just been adding pieces here and there whenever inspiration struck, but I just wanted to wrap it up and see what you guys thought :) Hope you like it. Sorry it's so angsty

_Your man on the road, he doing promo_  
_You said keep our business on the low-low_  
_I'm just tryna get you out the friend zone_  
_'Cause you look even better than the photos_

 

Wade’s phone buzzed, alerting him of a text. He put down his whiskey glass and picked up the cell.

________________________________________  
**Peter:**  
**Are you awake?**

Yeah.

**Come over?**

Okay.

**New address.**

Send it. I’m on my way.  
_________________________________________

Wade walked out the front door of his apartment building. He was wearing his Deadpool mask, jeans, and hoodie. He began the walk to Peter’s apartment. Though the route was different, the desolate feeling was the same as always.

_I can't find your house, send me the info_  
_Driving through the gated residential_  
_Found out I was coming, sent your friends home_  
_Keep on tryna hide it but your friends know_

“Well,” Peter said, sitting on the couch in his shared apartment with Karen, a feisty blonde he had recently befriended, “It’s pretty late. Probably gonna turn in soon.”

“Oh,” Karen said, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table, “right. Yeah, I should go.” She carefully avoided Peter’s eye line. Because she knew. Of course she knew. But she wasn’t going to interfere. They were all adults and it wasn’t her business. She stood up and showed herself to the door. “Bye, Peter,” she said pensively.

“Bye, Karen. Have a good night.” He gently shut the door behind her and went back to the couch to pour himself another glass of wine.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Peter opened the door to his shared apartment when he heard the familiar loud knock.

“Hey,” he said to Wade, keeping his face a practiced cool neutral veneer.

“Hey,” the mercenary said, seeming disinterested, though they both knew the opposite was true. “Where’s Matt?”

“Out of town,” Peter said simply, turning his back and walking farther into the apartment, into the bedroom. 

Wade walked after Peter. “Nice place,” he said, leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom. “Was it his?”

“It’s new,” Peter said curtly, pulling off his shirt with business-like coldness.

‘This again,’ Wade thought, walking into the room, stripping his hoodie off to reveal a black T-shirt. He and Peter met in the middle of the room, standing a foot apart. Peter moved to take Wade’s mask off, only to have his hands caught in midair and dropped. Wade rolled his mask up, but only halfway. Just enough to expose his mouth and part of his nose.

A wounded look passed across Peter’s face for an instant before the indifferent mask was put back in place, accented with pursed lips.

“I’ll get the lights,” Deadpool said, walking to the wall and flipping the switch.

‘He wants to fuck in the dark now…’ Peter thought. The boy knew he had no right to be upset that Wade didn’t want him seeing his face or his skin. Wade wasn’t his anymore. But still, the rejection stung fiercely.

When the room was covered in shadow, the only light source the small lamp in the corner, the larger man walked back over to Peter and, without a word, captured him in a rough kiss. Peter gasped, allowing Wade to slip his tongue into his mouth. 

Peter knew Wade could taste the alcohol. He wouldn’t be surprised. That’s how these rendezvous went. Matt would leave town, Peter would drink, Peter would call Wade. And Wade would come. Every time.

_I only call you when it's half past five_  
_The only time that I'll be by your side_  
_I only love it when you touch me, not feel me_  
_When I'm fucked up, that's the real me_  
_When I'm fucked up, that's the real me, yeah_

 

Peter clawed down the back of Wade’s shirt, wanting to tear the fabric from the hulking man. He grasped onto the front of the mercenary’s top, walking backwards, moving them both closer to the bed. Peter sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Wade to kneel on the floor in front him. He roughly bit at the scarred man’s full bottom lip until he tasted blood. The younger man moved his hands down to unfasten his own pants, slipping them down his thighs. He put his hand on Wade’s shoulder, lightly pushing down until he got the hint.

Shooting an unseen glare at Peter, Wade took Peter’s cock in his large hand and leaned down. He flicked out his tongue, running it over the head, causing the younger to jump with a gasp. He smoothly took Peter down to the hilt, swallowing his cock with practiced ease. He ran his tongue up the sensitive underside of Peter’s cock as he swallowed around it, causing the younger to groan in pleasure. Yeah, Peter may be distanced from him now, but Wade always knew how to take him apart like this. That would never change.

“Wade!” the young hero cried out. It made Wade remember a different time when Peter yelled his name.  
~~~~  
_"Wade, I can't do this anymore!" Peter shouted with tears streaming down his face, "I can't keep putting myself through this. Dammit, Wade! Why can't you just stop?"_

_"Peter, I'm a mercenary," Wade said, coldly, "It's what I am. It’s all I know. And sometimes, killing is just part of the job. It's what I do, Peter. It's part of me."_

_"Well, it can't be part of us," Peter said, sniffling, "I love you, Wade. But if you can't change for me... then there is no us."_  
~~~~  
The sudden memory that played behind his eyelids made Wade’s body jerk in a single sob, which he played off as choking around the cock he was sucking. Peter’s cock. Because he was with Peter right now, not another nameless, faceless bar crawler like usual.

Gasping, he pulled off. 

“Get up here,” Peter demanded, his voice thick with arousal and poorly clouded emotion. Peter pulled the mercenary up by his shirt, crashing their lips together in a kiss that seemed more like a fight. They were locked in a battle of teeth and tongues, both so desperate for each other in ways they would never admit out loud. 

_I'ma let you know and keep it simple_  
_Tryna keep it up, don't seem so simple_  
_I just fucked two bitches 'fore I saw you_  
_You gon' have to do it at my tempo_  
_Always tryna send me off to rehab_  
_Drugs start to feeling like it's decaf_  
_I'm just tryna live life for the moment  
_And all these motherfuckers want a real love_ _

 

Peter drug Wade up the bed and shoved him onto his back, the bulk of the larger man no match for Peter’s enhanced strength. He moved to straddle Wade’s lap and pushed the black T-shirt up and over the mercenary’s muscular chest.

If Peter were normal, he wouldn’t have seen them. As it was, with his heightened vision, he could clearly see multiple marks on the scarred torso; slight discolorations telling of what had been purple hickeys and bite marks only hours earlier. Narrowing his eyes, Peter leaned down, putting his face in the crook of Wade’s neck and inhaled through his nose. He hated the flush of anger that coursed through his body at the light, floral scent.

“You smell like a woman,” he said in an accusing voice.

Wade simply cocked an eyebrow and shrugged one shoulder, wordlessly admitting to the implied accusation.

Peter scowled and bit harshly at Wade’s shoulder, making the larger man groan. Peter was angry that Wade had been out fucking other people. And he hated himself for feeling that way when he himself was in a full-blown relationship with someone else. And he hated those stupid fucking hickeys that made him imagine their origins.

~~~~  
_“Oh, fuck, daddy!” the blonde one yelled as Wade bounced her on his cock, his eyes closed tight in concentration. The brunet was busy biting the shit out of Wade’s pecs. All three of them were drunk out of their minds. A year ago, Wade had thought that it wasn’t possible for him to get drunk. After Peter left, he quickly realized that it just took fervent dedication._  
~~~~ 

Imagining the scene, Peter pulled back to roughly kiss and bite at Wade’s neck, wanting to rid the mercenary of the scent, the feeling, the memory of fucking anyone else. He didn’t belong to anyone else. He was _Peter’s._ ….Except that he wasn’t. Not anymore.

Squeezing his eyes shut to keep in tears, the younger sat up and demanded, “Fuck me. Now.”

Wade heard the effort in Peter’s voice to keep his emotions in check. Nonetheless, he surged up, ripping Peter’s shirt off of him. The younger scraped his nails down Wade’s muscular chest, leaving red marks that would disappear in a few short moments. Though Peter was strong, he was still light and Wade easily wrapped his arm around the smaller man’s waist, maneuvering him so that their positions were switched. 

Leaning over Peter, Wade sucked and bit his way down the boy’s slender body, delighted at every hickey he left on the porcelain skin. It’s not like Matt would see them, anyway. Reaching the hem of Peter’s pants, Deadpool made quick work unfastening them and pulling them off. 

“Wade, fuck me,” Peter demanded, impatiently before Wade had even gotten a hand on him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Wade insisted. Peter got like this sometimes, wanting to be hurt, feeling the need to be punished.

“You won’t hurt me,” the younger contended. He grabbed Wade’s hand, placing it between his spread legs. Wade gasped at the slick he felt there. Prodding further, he moaned when his finger slipped into Peter’s prepped hole. 

No fucking around, then. The larger man leaned back so he could flip Peter onto his hands and knees; he didn’t need the boy seeing his barely-contained emotional state brought on by the flood of memories. Fuck, why couldn’t he just feel numb? He felt numb with the all of the others. Why did this boy have such a clutch on his heart?

He took himself in hand and lined up with Peter’s slick entrance. Wasting no time, he pushed in, bottoming out in one motion. Both cried out as Wade slid home. Without hesitating, Wade set a brutal pace, fucking into Peter again and again. It felt so good, but his heart cracked a little more with each cry of pleasure that came from Peter’s mouth. Wade remembered doing this when they were together.

~~~~  
_“Fuck, Wade!” Peter cried out, his knees pushed almost to his ears as Wade pumped in and out of him. “You’re so fucking big! Ohmygod, don’t stop!” He was panting, his eyes glassy as he was overcome by blinding pleasure and love for the man above him._

_“Fuck, Petey. Sound so pretty for me,” the merc growled, “Love how you moan on my cock.”_

_“Nghh! Waaade! I’m gonna cum! Oh my god. Wade, Wade! Ah! Fuck! Wade!” Peter cried, cumming as Wade’s cock continued to piston in and out of him, grazing his prostate every time. The muscular man was soon to follow, the sheer hotness of his boyfriend cumming untouched enough to tip him over the edge._

_After that, they had laid in bed, trading gentle kisses and ‘I love you’s until they drifted off to sleep._

~~~~ 

“Wade, harder,” Peter demanded, his voice like steel. The mercenary complied, wrapping his big hands abound Peter’s hips so he could pull the boy back onto his cock as he thrusted forward.

“Ah-ah! Wade! Wade, please,” Peter exclaimed. Wade pretended he didn’t know Peter was crying. Wade had to bite his lip to keep his own traitorous tears from falling as he continued roughly fucking into the smaller man.

He leaned over Peter, wrapping an arm around the younger’s torso so that they were flush against each other, touching at all points. Wade wanted so badly to kiss the back of Peter’s neck, or to bury his nose in the other man’s hair, or whisper endless adorations into his ear. But that’s not how things were any longer. The days of tenderness between them were long gone. They had been replace, now, with rough, angry touches that only served to satisfy bodily needs and left an aching hole in Wade’s chest that was worn more raw each time.

Wade could tell that Peter was getting close by the hitches in his breath. He closed his eyes and tried to follow the other to completion, but no matter how hard he tried, rapid flashes of memories played through his mind. 

~~~~~  
_“Wade,” Peter said softly, bringing a hand up to touch Wade’s scarred cheek, “I don’t ever want you to be self-conscious around me.”_

_“Wade, how could you?!” Peter yelled, his face contorting in betrayal, “You said you would try to stop!”_

_”I love you, Wade,” Peter said, beaming up at him. “I love you too, Petey,” Wade replied, his face reflecting his boyfriend’s grin, “I always have and I always will.”_  
~~~~~ 

Wade barely held back a sob at the last memory. Thankfully, he was distracted by the feeling of Peter tightening around him. 

“Wade… Wade, I’m gonna come,” Peter warned in a whisper, not trusting his own voice. 

The mercenary just nodded against Peter’s shoulder in response, knowing damn well that if he tried to answer, his voice would break. Wade doubled his efforts, thrusting quickly into Peter until the boy cried out. Feeling Peter’s walls spasm around him pushed Wade easily over the edge and he quickly followed, coming in Peter. 

Both men held their positions, panting and out of breath. With a final steadying breath, Wade pulled out of Peter and immediately left the bed. Peter watched from the mattress as the taller man grabbed around for his clothes, quickly dressing. Peter easily located his clothes, tangled up in the bedsheets, and slipped them on. He silently padded across the floor to open the bedroom door, letting light from the living room spill in. Without a backwards glance, Peter walked out of the room into the living area, leaving Wade to finish dressing. 

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~* 

Peter didn’t look at Wade as he walked him to the front door. He kept his eyes glued to the floor as he spoke. 

“This can’t happen again,” Peter said, not for the first time. 

Wade huffed through his nose. “Yeah.” 

Peter nodded, his arms crossed. “Goodbye, Wade,” he said, his voice emotionless in his dismissal. 

"Yeah, Petey,” the mercenary muttered as he walked out the door, “See you around.” 

Robotically, Peter walked back to his and Matt’s bedroom. This time though, he didn’t shower. He didn’t change the sheets. He didn’t drink. He just  
curled up in bed and cried. 

_Who are you to judge? Who are you to judge?_


	2. Connect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songfic of Connect by Drake. More angsty angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is a songfic of Connect. If you haven't heard it, you should reeeally listen to it before or while reading this chapter. Anyways, the song is from the perspective of a man talking to and about a woman. Obviously, these characters are all male so I did edit the lyrics to fit the genders.

_Isn't it amazing how you talk all this shit and we still lack communication_   
_How beautiful our kids will be, yeah, I don't need convincing_   
_How every conversation starts with this time will be different_   
_Oh the idea is fun, oh the idea is fun_   
_Oh the idea is so fun every time_   
_At least we try for homerun every time_

Matt knew before he even walked through the front door. He could smell it. The scent of sex, of Peter, of _Wade_. And over that, the laundry detergent and cleaning chemicals trying to cover it all up. Matt isn’t surprised; this isn’t new.

He unlocks and opens the door, hanging his cane on the wall and slipping his tinted glasses into his coat pocket. He hears that Peter is on the couch in front of him. He hears the slight stutter of the younger’s heartbeat. 

“Hey, babe,” the boy spoke, standing up from his seat, “How was the business trip?”

Matt put a smile on. He could sense the guilt rolling off his boyfriend. “It was good,” he answered, meeting Peter and pulling him in for a hug, “Foggy and I got all the information we needed for the case, so,” he shrugged, “mission success, I guess.” He was doing this more and more often, having to be fake, having to pretend that there wasn’t a giant rift between them that grew wider every time he smelled Wade in their apartments. 

“That’s great,” Peter said genuinely, “I missed you.”

At the words, Matt’s composure faltered, his smile falling but only for a second. “I missed you too.” Neither one of them were lying. Even with the thing they didn’t talk about, they did miss each other. They did _love_ each other. They were good together. And he could tell how hard Peter tried to make it up to Matt, even though he didn’t know Matt knew. The lawyer knew that after this, Peter would spend the next week attached to Matt’s hip, saying overly sweet things to him and talking about their future together. Matt didn’t let himself fall for it anymore. He had stopped thinking that the last time would be the last.

_He just wanna run around the city and make memories_  
 _That he can barely remember_  
 _And I'd allow it, cause I can’t live without him_   
_He just wanna run over my feelings_  
 _Like he drinking and driving in an 18 wheeler_  
 _And I'd allow it, cause I can’t live without him_

Matt walked into the kitchen, turning his back to hide the hurt expression he couldn’t stop from flashing over his face. He opened the refrigerator, tapping his finger lightly on its inner wall to help him “see” its contents. He noticed that Peter’s wine was gone. Sighing, he pulled a glass bottle out for himself. He was twisting the cap off of the beer when Peter walked in.

“Hey, did you want to go somewhere for dinner tonight?” the shorter man asked, leaning against the countertop. His voice was hopeful and contained deep emotion that most people wouldn’t recognize, but Matt knew was self-loathing. 

That’s why Matt never said anything. He knew that Peter hated doing this to him. Matt knew that Peter loved him, he could feel that with every enhanced sense he had. But he also heard the hidden pain and longing that often haunted the younger man’s voice. It didn’t take Matt long to figure out that the bare truth was that Peter couldn’t get over Wade. He knew that the boy was floundering, unable to control his emotions and unable to live with his decisions so the entire mess came out in this self-destructive manner. Matt agonized over the fact that the one he loved most was in constant turmoil, while simultaneously Matt was hurt by the situation himself.

“Oh, actually,” Matt answered, “I have to run by the office tonight to organize the files we got.”

“Oh,” Matt heard Peter’s shoulder’s fall.

“I’m sorry, love,” Matt said, and he was. He cared so much for Peter and hated seeing him down. He moved over to the younger, putting his hands on Peter’s cheeks and running his thumbs over the soft skin. “I won’t be out too late. I promise.” 

Peter nodded slightly in Matt’s hands. “Okay,” he answered, “I love you, Matt.”

“I love you too, Peter.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*  
Wade waved at the bartender, motioning for another glass of whiskey, a double this time.

He had hardly been home in the two days since he last saw Peter. He huffed a bitter laugh at himself. _‘Yeah. Saw, fucked. Basically mean the same thing now.’_ He had walked home when he left Peter’s apartment ( _‘Peter and Matt’s apartment,’_ he corrected himself) but found that he couldn’t stand the prospect of being in the lonely silence of his one bedroom flat. So, for the past 30 or so hours, Wade had been in and out of bars, spending stupid amounts of money to drink lucrative amounts of alcohol. But, that’s what it took to keep a body with a healing factor drunk. Lucky him.

He spent most of his time thinking about why he didn’t need to be thinking about Peter. Which, inevitably, lead to thinking about Peter. And god, was that painful.

_He used to say "You can be whoever you want, even yourself"_   
_Yeah, I show up knowin' exactly who I was and never leave as myself_   
_But when it falls apart, I'm always still down_   
_To pick a million tiny little pieces off the ground_   
_Wish you would learn to love people and use things_   
_And not the other way around_

Wade threw back the whisky and let the memories flash through his mind. He remembered the first time Peter had texted him after their breakup. It had been two months since he had heard from the hero. Two lonely, painful, regret-filled months smattered with a few suicides and a ton of liquor. Wade was just beginning to pull himself out of pit he was in when he got the text. 

“I need to see you,” it had said.

_He call and tell me be here before the sun up_   
_I be dressed before we hung up_

Wade went and so it began, the seemingly endless cycle of their drunken hookups, a molten mesh of need, desire, hunger, pain, shame, and sorrow. Wade had promised himself on several occasions that _next time_ he wouldn’t answer. He wouldn’t respond to the next late night text he got from Peter. But he did. Every time. 

Wade gave a deep, tired sigh, putting his face in his hands.

_Same city, same friends if you're looking for me_   
_Same city, same friends if you're looking_   
_I'll be here just swanging_   
_Don't talk to me like I'm famous_

 

Wade was pulled out of his reverie when he heard the barstool next to him scrape against the floor as someone pulled it out to sit.

He lifted his half-masked face from his hands and turned to glare at the person intruding on his moment. He honest to god, wasn’t even surprised when he saw Matt Murdock sitting not five feet away from him, staring straight ahead at the bar. The blind man waved off the bartender when approached. 

“He told you,” the mercenary said in lieu of introduction once the employee was out of earshot.

“No.”

Wade’s eyes narrowed. “How did you find me?” he questioned.

Matt turned his face slightly towards the merc. “Your scent is all over my apartment,” he answered, voice bordering on sharp but not quite reaching it. Wade stared at the vigilante, for once without words. After a stretch of silence, Matt sighed. His voice was softer, more broken when he spoke again. “Just…. could you not do it where I live… please.”

“Matt,” Wade started but was cut off.

“Don’t,” Matt held up a hand, shaking his head, “I don’t need anything from you. Not an apology, not sympathy, not a promise to stop. Just… make Peter happy. That’s all I came here to tell you.”

“You’re not going to leave him, are you?” the larger man asked, his voice concerned.

Matt sighed deeply, shaking his head. “No… I can’t leave him. Not until he asks me to.”

After a moment’s pause between the two, Wade spoke. “You know, he really loves you.”

The dark-haired man’s face turned cold. “I don’t need you to tell me that.” He heard Wade flinch at his sharp tone. “Deadpool…” he started.

“Wade,” the scarred man insisted, “Unless you want me to call you Dare Devil?”

A corner of Matt’s mouth quirked up in a bleak ghost of a half-smile before it vanished. “Wade, then,” he continued, “I care about Peter. And, whether I like it or not, he needs you.” He held up a hand when Wade went to protest. “No. I’m _here_ talking to _you_. There is no more denial. Peter can’t get over you and it’s killing him. Thinking that he’s hiding this from me is making him miserable. But I confront him, I would tell him to stop. And I can’t ask him to do that because I can hear in his voice how much he misses you. I hear him crying in the shower after he’s seen something about you on the news.”

“Stop,” Wade said harshly. His head was buzzing from the alcohol and raw emotion this man he didn’t even know was dragging out of him. “Don’t tell me anymore.”

“No,” Matt turned to fully face the mercenary, “I’m not going to stop. You two don’t get to do this anymore. You don’t get to pretend and lie to each other and me!” Matt paused to take a deep breath, noticing that his ranting had drawn the attention of a few customers. 

He lowered his voice and stared through the masked mercenary as he spoke. “If I asked you to come with me, would you?”

“Come where?” Wade questioned.

“Home.”

 

_I'm just tryna connect with somethin', babe_


End file.
